Mercy
by Charlie019
Summary: When darkness approaches, when there is no hope of survival, people would seek an alternative. Even death, for it is a mercy compared to what awaits them. Oneshot.


******Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon age. Go pester someone else please.**  


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**30 Dragon, Lothering Chantry**

She gently patted the boy in the head, the other hand moving to push a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead and to the sides. Moving on, she did the same to a young girl, barely close to seven years old, tucking them behind her ears.

"Shh…" The sister cooed as the crying from some got louder. "Its okay. We're all going to be fine. Just calm down alright?" Moving quickly on her feet, she identified those children and mentally marked them for later. There's just too much to do right now, and only one of her. A little help would be great, except that other sisters had either left, or dead. That left her as the only sister left working in Lothering's chantry.

The wailing got louder, the sound encouraging and scaring a few others to join in. If this keeps up, they would get out of control and she would have a room full of hysterical crying children. And in this situation, that would be the last thing she needs.

"Mummy, I want mummy…"

_She's dead. That's why no one has come yet._

"Shh shh, its okay child. Your mommy is fine." She lied, bending down a little. "Just be a good girl and wait for mommy okay?" She didn't have the heart to tell her that no one is coming for her anymore, or any of them here. Despite her best, she couldn't stop her from crying louder, and desperately wished that sister Leliana had stayed, her singing would easily calm the group down compared to what she's trying to do now.

_Something. I just need something!_

"Hey, hey children." The sister called, getting most of their attention. Most not hiding their red snotty noses from her, long past the point of caring if anyone sees them, especially considering recent events.

Finding a stool, she went in front of the large empty bookshelf, most of the Chantry's reading materials having being looted long ago to make fire by the most desperate refugees. Others, such as the children ushered into the library, weren't so lucky, either scavenging for basic necessities by themselves or with parents. And during the past two hours, despite the growing urgency and dire everything had gotten, few came to collect their child. The rest were mostly likely dead. The dead can't collect their still living children after all. The sister can only hope that at least they receive the proper funeral procedures after their passing.

_Oh they will. The darkspawn do have a habit of burning everything in their way, if they didn't eat the corpse or stick it up as decorations first. _She forced the train of thoughtout of her head. Now isn't the time to think like that.

Succeeding in drawing most of the children's attention, she called out again in another attempt to calm them down as gently as she could. "Kids, settle down please." There was a short lull as the group obeyed, but the sister knew it wouldn't last long. Her past experiences with orphans and abandoned children might have gave her some experience in what to do in such situations, but not with this many at the same time.

"How about I tell you all a story? About the Grey Wardens?"

It worked, slightly, as a few took the time off crying to look up at her. "My da said that Wardens killed our king they did. " A short boy with cropped hair said.

_Traitors and kingslayers according to Loghain._

"What's your name kid?" She asked, going down to the boy's level.

"Adam sister. Da called me Adam."

"Adam." She echoed, putting a hand on the kid's head. "Adults lie too, just like everyone. Just because we're grown ups doesn't mean we don't lie."

"So ma da's lyin'?" The boy questioned, staring back at her with wide eyes. It sounded like an accusation, but the child probably couldn't comprehend the concept of it yet.

"No Adam. Someone probably told him the lie, and your da believed it."

She didn't believe the Grey Wardens were traitors and kingslayers. Why would they hatch a plot to kill the King of Fereldan, a plot that involves getting every single one of them killed in the process. Even blind thugs could come up with better plans than that.

The sister went back before the bookshelf facing the motley group of children. "Now where was I? Ah yes, the Wardens-"

A small hand rose out from the group interrupting her. "Does it have griffons in it?"

"Makers-" She interrupted herself before she almost uttered an swear in front of the group of very young people. "Yes, there are griffons in the story my sweet. The mighty flying mounts that the Wardens rode in to battle against the darkspawn."

"I wish I had a griffon." One of the girls sitting in front muttered loud enough for the sister to hear.

"Unfortunately, griffons had all passed on into the Maker's hand long ago, so I'm afraid that wish would have to go unfulfilled child." She told her. "But it was said that watching the Grey Wardens ride into battle riding on their griffons was a amazing sight to behold, enough to rouse a weary heart, and put the dance back into the steps of a old man." She narrated, as the sobbing grew softer. "The Grey Wardens were powerful, feared and respected. They also inspire the common people like us."

"What about griffons?"

"Patience sweetie. There will be griffons in this story." She remembered the story clearly, how she was crying in the dark, still grieving over the loss of her parents. The Mother of the Chantry had heard her crying and went to investigate, finding her all curled up and soaking in tears in the corner of the larder. Though her memory was a little fuzzy since it had taken place when she was still a young girl of eight, she could still remember the story told to her clearly by the Mother. At that time, to her, it was just a very cool story. Now, it is to give these children hope.

"The Blight had ravaged the land for months, and the armies of the Great Kings had amassed for one last stand." She began, the words automatically forming themselves on her lips as memories flooded into her mind, the Mother's voice resounding into her head. "The sun burst through the clouds that boiled and churned in the dark sky above, it illuminated the vast seething horde of darkspawn, with the Archdemon at its head."

The sobs had almost completely stopped by now, replaced by occasional sniffing, the children all transfixed by the tale she was telling them. She wished sister Leliana was here to do this though, the Orleasian was much better at stories than she was. Plus her singing would be of great help at this time, and very fitting. "And it was then, when courage seemed to fail, and all lost their hopes and began to despair, that the Grey Wardens came. They arrived with the beating of wings like mighty war drums, and stood before the armies of men."

"Griffons?" Adam asked eagerly, his red eyes still glistering with tears staring right back up at her, complete with a puffy red nose.

"Yes," She answered, unsure if she should be annoyed or amused by the children's undying fascination with the griffons, "griffons. Now listen to the rest of the story."

"The Grey Wardens, grim and fearless, marched forth, ever between the men and the encroaching darkspawn." Sounds. Metal on metal, barking of orders as the fighting got closer. Keeping her composure, she continued, hoping that the story would distract the children from what's going on outside. "They formed a shield of their own bodies and held the line until the archdemon was dead and the last darkspawn lay trampled into the dirt."

"And then, demanding neither reward nor recognition for their sacrifice, the Grey Wardens departed." A part of her kept pestering on how unrealistic the story was, and how strategically unsound of having the Wardens dismount and form a line instead of flying around and using their aerial superiority to their advantage. _It's just a story. _She told herself._ That describes the Wardens and their duty. Defenders of men, sacrificing themselves and spilling their own blood so others do not have to face the monsters._

"When the clouds finally rolled back and the sun shone full upon the blighted ground, the great kings knew that they had lost no men, and none of their blood had been spilled."

"T'was brave of them." Adam commented. "So would they be here to save us with their s'ords?"

_Swords kid. They're called swords._

"Yes they will child." She encouraged, keeping their spirits up. "They will."

"Really?" A girl asked, staring up at her with wide, innocent blue eyes.

The sister bit back a sob. "Yes. Now lets," She choked, taking a breath to compose herself. She couldn't bring herself to lie to them. "Let us pray."

"Maker, through the darkness comes upon us," She began, more for the children's benefit that it is for hers. She knows what's coming, and that neither blessings nor prayers could safe them. But the young ones don't know that. "I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

A soft boom outside followed by slight shaking. More shouting, faint screams and cries of terror as the Templars and village militia who had stayed behind to defend them despite the overwhelming odds continued to battle against the horde. They were losing judging from what she could hear despite the thick stone walls that made the library nearly soundproof. Since she could hear what's going on outside, it meant that the defences were being overrun, or the defenders routing, and the fighting was close. Or all of the above. Either way, the fighting is getting close, way too close. And she still haven't been able to find a good excuse to leave the room to execute the next part of her plan. She quickly drew the children's attention back to her as she continued her prayer.

_I'm a sister of the Chantry. Stay calm, I'll find an opportunity. I will._

"Though all before me is shadow,

Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light

And nothing that He has Wrought shall be lost."

"Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of just.

Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.

In their blood the Maker's will is written."

"Andraste I pray to you today, may you guide and provide safety for us. May you show mercy to these young and innocent souls and lead them to the light. May you-"

The door leading to the library bust open, and a templar stumbled inside. "Sister, I need you to-"

"Ser knight, you are scaring the children! Whatever you'll have to say will be done outside." She barked, despite being outranked by the holy warrior. The Templar, taken aback by her harsh tone, quickly obeyed, shutting the door behind him. "Please, continue praying children. Then take a nap. I'll be back soon." Holding up the sides of her robes slightly to give her more mobility, she stepped past the mass of younglings and entered the main hall. Inside, she was crying out in relief, at the chance to leave the room, and perhaps her inhuman plan might succeed after all.

The chantry was mostly empty, most having decided to turn and flee as far north as they could the moment the horde showed up and began attacking. The Revered Mother had also went outside to try and calm things down and guide everyone along with Elder Miriam. The only people left was a few souls hiding in the darkest corner they could find, wailing and begging for some divine intervention to save them.

The templar that barged in had his helmet off, showing his pale skin, marred with cuts decorating and bleeding along his face. One of his hands were held against his side in a attempt to stem the bleeding from a cut he had received. "Where's Ser Bryant?"

"Dead. Shriek tore him into- Never mind, its better if you don't know." He shook his head, clearing his eyes from his own blood dripping down his forehead. "We have to go now. Just gather the children and-"

"No."

"Excuse me?" the Templar asked incredulously.

"You have ears ser knight, I said no."

"With respect sister, I'm afraid I can't do that. There's no way I'm leaving the ch-"

"How?" She demanded. "How are you get us out of the village? By yourself?" She gestured at his wounds. "I don't think you can get us anywhere with that."

"Most of us are holding the line below the highway sister, there's still a couple Templars around who can escort you and the-"

"We can't outrun them, don't play stupid with me templar, we both know that. The line wouldn't last, no, it has already been broken hasn't it?" It wasn't because she's a fatalist, but its true. There was a reason why only a fraction of the King's army had escaped Ostagar, and those that did spoke of being hounded constantly, escaping only because the darkspawn were too busy taking their time to kill everyone else.

"But they're not here yet."

"They will. Soon."

A loud cry of pain echoed outside, followed by something slamming into the door then sliding down against it.

She locked eyes with the warrior in front of her. "Hand me your knife ser knight."

"What…" His eyes widened in shock as he figured out what her intention was. "No. You're mad sister."

"Mad?" She chuckled bitterly at the situation. "Look at me ser knight. Look right into my eyes and see if I am truly mad."

"You know that its better this way." She continued when the Templar failed to reply. "We can't escape, we'll just succeed in tiring ourselves out before they kill us all. You know that better than me as a warrior."

"What you suggest, is madness sister." He seethed.

Her reply was curt and without emotion. "No. Its not."

They stood there, glaring at each other, waiting to see who would relent first. The sister won out. "Maker's blood." He swore, removing his dagger and handing it to the sister, including its sheath. "Andraste forgive me for what I've done."

"May She forgive us all for everything we've done as a whole." She echoed back, looking away.

"Buy me some time." She ordered when another object slammed into the door loudly, buckling the lock a little.

The Templar wore his helmet, his utterly face concealed by the metal bucket except for the two holes meant for his eyes. He pulled his Sword of Mercy out of its sheath. "How long do you need?"

"As long as you can get me." Without a word, the warrior departed, unlocking the door and stepping past the two corpses threw against it. He then closed and locked it behind him sealing his fate along with the other doomed defenders.

Turning back to the library, a tear squeezed its way out, flowing down her cheek. She was terrified. Terrified at the darkspawn which were massacring everyone without mercy. Terrified at what she had planned to do. Terrified that she would not spent the rest of eternity wandering the Fade instead of by the Maker's side as punishment for what she had planned.

People would call her a monster, a demon, no better than the magisters He banished back down for attempting to usurp him. No better than the foul and tainted monsters that await outside, for doing such a deed. She pulled the knife out, testing the sharpness.

She was terrified. But it was the only way.

There was no guarantee that the darkspawn would simply quickly kill her and the defenseless children. There wasn't. They might take their time, slowing killing them, or eat them or other monstrous deeds if what people say about what they do to some they captured are true. A fate that no one wished to be bestowed upon them.

What she was about to do, isn't murder, but mercy. A quick and painless mercy.

A sharp pain screamed its way through her nerves from her hand. Looking down, she saw that she had gripped the sharp end of the dagger tightly, cutting deep into her fingers, causing blood to flow, staining the tiny weapon and her robes. She quickly made a makeshift bandage by tearing the edge of her robes off for her hand.

Time was essential. She don't have all day.

_Andraste, Maker, please forgive me for the foul act I am about to commit._

With a heavy heart, she returned to the library.

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**So, I was watching Game of Thrones the other day, and the last scene in season 2 episode 9 gave me this little idea.**

**Anyway, the story about the Wardens is the one that Wynne told during the main story, the one where you can pester her constantly about griffons, much to her frustration. As for the prayer, well, I took out snippets from the Chant of Light from the wiki. **

**So, well, yeah. **

**Review and comments? **


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